Enough Mistletoe
by DukeBrymin
Summary: Unexpected visitors and the resulting lack of privacy teach Harry and Ginny about the reason for the seasons, and whether you really can have too much mistletoe.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Enough Mistletoe, Chapter 1

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count:** 4429

**Summary:** Unexpected visitors and the resulting lack of privacy teach Harry and Ginny about the reason for the seasons, and whether you really can have too much mistletoe.

**Author's Notes: **This was written for the LiveJournal hg_seasonsfest winterfest fic exchange. We all put in our requests, and were given an assignment. My prompt was: Canon pairings; I like stories just out of Hogwarts through when Lily is a baby; Neville would be good, as would any of the Weasleys. Snow, Fireplaces, Hot chocolate – really, winter is my favorite season you can't go wrong with most winter elements (but if you choose to include a sport – please don't go with snowboarding!)

**Enough Mistletoe, Chapter 1**

"Toss this," Harry finally exclaimed to himself, and threw the quill on the desk. A quick check of his watch, a sly glance down the hall, and his plan was made.

Drawers shut, papers (semi-)neatly piled on desk, over-robe on, and wand holstered, and it was time. He stepped out of his office, and turned away from the exit. It made it a little harder for him, since he had to go down the back stairwell, and it was . . . _difficult_ dealing with the flocks of dead memos (they really should set up a default recipient when a person leaves the Ministry). But it was worth it to Harry to not have to pass Kingsley's desk.

Finally at the atrium level, Harry quickly slipped out of the stairwell door, batting at the two magenta high-priority notices that had somehow decided that he was the 1912 head of the Ministry Testing and Standardizations Committee.

Taking a quick moment to re-settle his robes, he strode off in a determined manner. The past months had ingrained in him the necessary attitude to keep from being interrupted. The key, he had found out, was to act as if he were slightly late, stare ahead anxiously, and never, never, _never _make eye contact.

It almost worked.

"Potter!" came the voice, and Harry flinched inside. Keeping his stride long and purposeful, he quickly looked around. The shout had come from off to the left, where the lifts were. It was Taggart, one of the up-and-coming Aurors. Normally, Harry would take the time to chat, perhaps discuss details of a case, or make plans for getting together. But not today. Today Harry was on a mission. He strode forward while waving ambiguously at the other man. He only had about ten more steps 'til the Floos, and he figured he could get away safely.

"Potter!"

Curses! Harry hadn't counted on Taggart's abnormally long legs. Time for Plan B. Harry gauged his distances, set his right hand in motion towards the Floo powder, and gathered his belongings closer. "Oh, Taggart!" he called, cheerfully apologetic. "Hey, yeah, I'm just, and the thing, and really need to. . ." he threw the powder, lowered his voice and whispered "Potters' Paradise" and stepped into the green fire with a final wave.

oooooooooo

Ginny was frantically rushing around the house, trailing ribbons and bows and all manner of festive holiday decorations. Harry was due home in a few short hours, and she had so wanted to finish decorating before he got there. It being their first Christmas as newlyweds, she had decided to go all out and do the entire Christmas experience for him.

It was turning out to be a lot more work than she had anticipated, especially as she had never done those types of charms very well, and was having to do much of it by hand. The green pine boughs looked really nice lining the stairwell, but had been a huge nuisance arranging. The holly and red bows looked great hanging from the light fixtures-she had burnt her hand on one of the lights, and it still stung, since she hadn't taken the time to heal it correctly. The mistletoe she was a little worried about. She was starting to think that truly, there might be such a thing as _too much_ mistletoe.

At this precise moment, Ginny was decorating the mantel. She had once seen a magazine photo that showed how to decorate for Christmas, and the mantel in the photo had struck her fancy. As she was trying hard to remember exactly what was supposed to be there, a body tumbled out of the fireplace.

"Stupe-" was all she got off, as the invader managed to knock her over in its uncontrolled flight. Thoroughly entangled with each other, the pair fetched up against the sofa.

Silence.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger," Ginny chanted as she pushed away the hand that was apparently trying to tell what color socks she was wearing. The intruder shook a bit, then let out something that sounded like _wrblefn_.

"Get off me, you, you. . . Harry?"

Harry tipped his head back and roared. He laughed so hard his eyes started watering, and he had to pound his fist on the floor. But he finally calmed down when he realized that his wife (which word should properly have been shouted by an angelic choir) wasn't laughing with him. In fact, she looked rather distraught, and as he went to kiss her 'hello', she burst into tears.

"Gin?" Harry asked, hesitantly. To be honest, he still hadn't gotten a really good grasp on what time of the month she was touchier, although he was sure it wouldn't be happening so soon. "Ginny? Um, are you okay?"

She burst into louder sobs and started pounding him on the chest. "NO! I just-" incoherent mumblings, "-and with the-" more mumbling, "-home early-" sobs and sniffles, "don't know how to make wassail!" she finally finished, then cried even louder.

Harry proved he was a true Gryffindor, then. He took both her hands in his left one, primarily to keep her from hitting his chest any more, then got to his knees. Taking a calculated risk, he let go of her hands, and in one not-quite-smooth motion, put his left arm around her back, his right under her knees, and lifted her. Making it to his own feet, he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. Which door was locked.

"Gin?" he asked, hesitantly.

The quivering body in his arms mumbled something that might have been _what?_, although it might just as easily have been _muck_, or _junk_, or something like that. Harry soldiered on. "Why is the bedroom door locked?"

Ginny broke out into a fresh burst of tears and sobs, and Harry banged his head on the door in frustration. "Okay, no problem," he assured her, and went down the hall to the guest bedroom. Relieved to find the door standing open, he carried his wife in, and gently placed her on the bed. He took her shoes off, and reached for the covers to tuck her in. As he bent down to kiss her forehead, a small, slim hand crept out and latched onto his arm.

"Don't go," she whispered. "Please stay here with me."

Harry smiled, then toed off his owns shoes. Obviously, whatever had happened wasn't entirely his fault. He lifted the covers and climbed in next to her. "I'm here, babe."

Ginny scooted over as close as she could, laying one leg on top of his, her head on his shoulder, and wrapping her arm across his chest. Harry put his arm around her, and lay there listening to her breathing calm down. The sobs eventually disappeared, and her breathing evened out, and Harry knew she was asleep.

This was one of his favorite things-being able to hold his Ginny in bed with him. Even after having been married for almost six months, the newness of the feeling hadn't worn off.

There had been a lot of somewhat crude comments from his male friends when he had gotten married. Seamus had been particularly graphic about the supposed best part of being married, and Harry had to admit that the whole 'making love' thing had been rather a high priority in his mind. But as he and Ginny had grown used to living together, and being married, Harry had learned something very important. He had realized that the best part really was being able to spend all the time he wanted with his best friend. It was in moments like this, just lying here together, when he thought that perhaps _this _was what heaven would be like; an eternity of waking up together, and going to bed together, and, well, shagging was heavenly too! But there was so much more to his relationship with Ginny that he had a hard time comprehending how things could ever be better.

A yawn interrupted his musings, and he closed his eyes, 'just for a second', mind you. But Ginny's contented breathing lulled him into slumber himself.

oooooooooo

"Harry!" The peaceful silence of the Potter residence was shattered by a rather desperate yell from the front room. Harry murmured something indistinguishable, and turned over slightly to recapture the warmth that radiated from Ginny's body.

"Harry! Merlin's Ghost, Harry, are you there!" came the ever-more-frantic voice of what could only be Ron Weasley.

Harry grunted again, and opened his eyes. Something felt a little "off" about their sleeping arrangements. Judicious handwork assured him that Ginny was there with him (the gasp and giggle indicated that she, too, was waking up). His glasses were off, so that wasn't it. The room was dark, so it was obviously getting towards evening.

"Harry!"

Ah, that was it-why was Ron screaming for him?

"Harry?" came a soft whisper from the beautiful redhead in bed with him. "Why is Ron yelling at you?"

Harry chuckled. "I don't know-it's not like he's in charge of my work hours, so he can't be upset for my coming home early. . ." His voice dropped as he realized that it was his early arrival that had sent Ginny into a crying jag. "Um, Gin, I'm sorry for that, by the way."

"Don't be silly, Harry. I'm glad you came home when you did. I just wasn't expecting it and it kind of took me by surprise, you know?"

Harry smiled. "Well, I'm glad you don't mind my skiving off work to come spend more time with you."

"You skived off work? Kingsley didn't know you left early?"

"Well, I'm assuming he found out, but obviously there wasn't a problem. Otherwise there would have been more than just Ron yelling for me." At another tortured yell from the fireplace, Harry grimaced. "Speaking of the great git, I should probably go see what he wants."

As he made to stand up, Ginny sat up and stretched, arching her back and letting out a cat-like purr. When she felt like she had done enough, she looked back at Harry. He was sitting on the bed, staring. His eyes, which were shining rather more fiercely than normal, were fixed firmly on her . . .well . . . precisely what she had wanted him to look at.

"Harry," she called lightly, then kissed him on the ear. "I'll just go talk to Ron, shall I?"

Harry nodded dumbly, not even realizing what he'd agreed to.

Ginny smirked, then walked out the doorway. She thought about adding an extra little wiggle to her exit, but Harry hadn't managed to turn his head yet, so it would have been wasted.

Arriving in the sitting room, the only room in Potters' Paradise that had a Floo entrance, Ginny was just in time to stop Ron from letting loose what she was sure would have been a rather loud, long, and somewhat profane scream. His face had that curiously deep tone, visible even through the flames, that indicated that Ron Was Not Happy.

"Hey, Ron. What's the problem?" she asked, in a light, carefree tone that she knew would further increase her brother's ire.

Ron, to her surprise, ignored the gibe, and looked at her with relief. "Ginny! Can you. . .well. . . see, the thing is. . . " Ron stopped, then tried again. "Can I come through? Please?"

Ginny was surprised at his not going into a full rage, but released the wards on the Floo, allowing travel.

Only a few seconds later, Ron's lanky frame tumbled into the sitting room and ended up sprawled on the floor in front of Ginny.

"Merlin, Ron! That was a rough landing, what happened?"

"Oh, um, nothing really. Uh, is Harry around?" Now that Ron had arrived, he seemed to be much less upset-or maybe it was because he was trying to hide his secret, whatever it was, from his little sister.

"Yeah. He'll be down in a bit. What's the matter?'

Ron looked down at his shoes. "I don't know, Ginny. It's just. . . it's all gone wrong, and I don't know how to fix it."

Ginny was again surprised at Ron's attitude. He virtually never admitted frailty in front of his little sister-she supposed it was some macho code that all men (even Harry, though he was getting better) subscribed to-but this Ron seemed to be almost, she paused before even thinking it-_sensitive_.

Making an instant decision, she put the Floo back on voice-only and took Ron's arm. "Well, brother mine, let's go get some hot chocolate and talk about it, okay? Harry should be coming down any minute now, and we'll see what we can do, okay?"

Ron nodded sheepishly, and allowed her to pull him into the kitchen.

Potters' Paradise was a relatively spacious home. Ginny and Harry had found it the month they had gotten engaged. Neither one of them wanted to stay at Grimmauld Place, with its narrow halls and claustrophobic memories, and Godric's Hollow was too full of imaginings and feelings to be comfortable in. But the home they had found had enchanted them. It was small enough not to need an army of house-elves, but large enough that the Potters could comfortably live there, even with a few kids underfoot.

Ginny had put her foot down about living too close to her mother, which Harry agreed to instantly. It had taken them a few days, but they'd finally found the place that, unknowingly, they had both been searching for.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, much like the Burrow's, to Ginny's occasional dislike. But there was no denying that the airy room, with windows letting in copious amounts of sunlight, and the inviting table, expandable to seat the entire Weasley clan, emitted a peaceful, happy spiritual susurration to any and all comers.

Ron sat at the table, head in his hands, while Ginny busied herself making cocoa. Midway through the process, Harry wandered in, with a goofy smile still attached to his face, and slightly-unfocused eyes. Well, unfocused until they landed on his beautiful wife, who was currently stretching to reach the mugs, and, incidentally, showing a little skin as she did so.

Harry walked up behind her, and put his arms around her. "Hey there, Gin. When did you leave the bedroom?"

Ginny blushed and laughed. "Oh, Harry, you're perfect. Don't ever change."

It took Ron coughing rather loudly to alert the two Potters that they were not, in fact, the only people in the room.

Harry looked over, surprised, and slipped his hands down out of the back of Ginny's shirt. "Hey there, Ron. I didn't see you."

"Obviously," Ron replied, but the humor died as quickly as it had arrived.

Harry exchanged a concerned glance with Ginny, then moved to sit next to his brother-in-law. "Okay, Ron. What's the problem?"

Ginny had finished the mugs of cocoa, and slid Ron's to him while taking a seat next to Harry.

Ron shook his head and sighed. "Well, I guess it all started last Monday. Hermione was going off on something about her parents, you know, like she does?" Not waiting for an answer, Ron plunged on. "I mean, I think the Grangers are great, really! But she was all worried about them for the Christmas season. I guess she really wanted to make them a part of the family."

Ginny looked at Harry, and mouthed, _They're a family?_

Harry shrugged. As far as they knew, Ron and Hermione hadn't even officially become a couple, although it was rather evident that it would happen sooner or later.

"-so I just sort of said, 'yeah, alright'." Ron stopped and looked at the other two, as if he were expecting them to agree. Or disagree. Or offer outraged denials. Or _something_. Not getting any response at all, he just shook his head and continued. "So I took today off, you know? George was okay with it, 'cause Verity wanted some extra hours anyway. We headed up into the mountains in some sort of automobile. Hermione called it a SVU or something. Anyway, it was brilliant going off the roads. Did you know they make cars that go off the roads?"

Ginny nodded-not because she knew that for a fact, but just because Ron tended to get sidetracked way too easily.

"So we're banging away through the trees-I swear the Whomping Willow has some cousins up there or something, 'cause we kept getting hit by these branches. And then Ophelia screams, 'Look at that!'. Well, what am I supposed to do? But we got them un-_Stupefied_ in a trice, and Hermione only hit me three or four times, so that's a bit of okay, although Floyd was rather upset for a bit. Come to think of it, Ophelia wasn't too chuffed either-she didn't really talk to me for the rest of the day. Although maybe it was because . . .

"Well, anyway, apparently it was the-how did she say it?" Ron raised his voice in a rather poor impersonation of Hermione's mother. "The most perfect Christmas tree ever! And right there! Oh, go on now, Floyd. Cut it down." Ron frowned. "She didn't even say I had to! But Hermione just gave me that look-you know, where if you don't do what she wants she's gonna rip your-" He looked at Ginny. "Um, your tongue out?"

Harry nodded, and Ginny smirked. They'd both seen that glare directed at Ron numerous times. And it wasn't the tongue that was the body part being threatened.

"I wanted to make them happy with me, you know? I figured I owed them for the _Stupefy_ already. So I pull out my wand to do a _Lacerous_. But Hermione just stares even harder at me and points to the saw. Fine, they want to go all Muggle, I can do that. I grabbed the saw and started cutting down the tree. Floyd is holding it for me, and Ophelia is looking through the branches and such, talking a mile a minute about how it's going to look in their living room. Well, I'm almost done, when it started to lean a bit more and these great bleedin' rat things come running down the trunk, and up Ophelia's arm, and start biting her coat and Floyd screams something I don't understand, and I kind of jump back out of the way, but I landed on Hermione. Floyd's jumping around trying to stomp on one that's got his shoelace in its mouth, and Ophelia's waving her arm trying to get the one off her. And Hermione's on the ground crying."

Harry was hard-pressed not to burst out in great guffaws. Ginny's eyes were watering, and Harry was forced to bite his knuckles so hard he thought he tasted blood.

"So I started _Stupefying_ the little blighters, but I hit Ophelia too, and she fell and banged her head on the ground pretty hard. Floyd yelled at me to stop it, but what am I supposed to do? Let them eat Hermione's parents? I'm trying to make a good impression on them, but what else can I do?" He stopped and drank some of his cocoa. "So I start kicking at them, and manage to get them away from Ophelia, and Floyd got rid of his. I helped Hermione up and tried to brush her off, but I wasn't looking where I was brushing and she slapped me.

"I figure everyone's okay by now, but it's rather quiet, with Floyd and Ophelia glaring at me, and Hermione looking like old McGonagall. So I asked if they still wanted to get that tree-"

Harry couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into great gouts of chortles. Ginny laughed too, leaning her head on Harry's shoulder. Ron looked morosely at his empty cocoa cup, and then switched his and Harry's. Finally the Potters calmed down enough for Ron to continue.

"So, Hermione tells me to just go home-she took them to St. Mungo's, 'cause you know some magical creatures are attracted to wizards and what-not, and there's the best place to fix up her parents."

"Did they find out what they were?" Ginny asked, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah. Ice weasels. They're not too dangerous, but that didn't make Hermione any happier with me."

"Merlin, Ron! That's just, just-"

"Bloody hilarious is what it is," Ginny put in. "But that doesn't explain why you needed Harry so bad you had to just about bring down the house with your yelling."

"Oh, yeah, that. Well, Hermione told me to go home, right? I figured we were going back to her parents' house to put up the tree. It took them forever at St. Mungo's, so I just kipped on their couch while I waited. Apparently, that wasn't where I was supposed to go, 'cause next thing I know Hermione's yelling at me, and Ophelia's screaming at me, and Floyd is yelling something about a cricket bat. I figured here was the best place to come. And it's a good thing you came down when you did, Ginny-my shield wouldn't have held out much longer."

The only thing that stopped the Potters from rolling on the floor in laughter was the horribly woebegone expression on Ron's face. They knew that the romance between Hermione and him was going slowly-Hermione wanted Ron to grow up a little more before she was willing to make any sort of long-term commitment, and Ron didn't see why he had to change-but it was times like these when they despaired of any progress being made.

Harry looked at Ginny carefully. There was a decision to be made, and he didn't want to make the wrong one. She looked back, and tilted her head a bit. Harry bit his lip, then nodded slightly. Ginny raised her eyebrows, and Harry nodded back a little more firmly. Ginny looked sadly back at him, but sighed.

"Ron," she said. "Would you like to stay here for awhile? I was just working on decorating, and Harry was just-"

"Helping her, mate, you know." Harry jumped in. He wasn't really happy about the addition to their family at the moment-he'd been looking forward to spending all of his stolen time with his wife (cue heavenly choirs again), but he couldn't, in good conscience, throw Ron out. But that didn't mean he couldn't subtly reinforce the fact that he was going to be spending the time with Ginny, specifically NOT spending all his time with Ron.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, a pleading in his tone. "If it. . . if it wouldn't be too much trouble. I could help, maybe."

"No, Ron. It's not a problem," Ginny insisted. "But you just go ahead and drink your-or Harry's, I guess-cocoa. Harry and I will go finish the mantel together, yeah?"

Ron nodded, picked up Harry's mug in both hands, and took another sip. Ginny bounced up and pulled Harry with her out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Gin, I didn't really want-"

"It's okay, Harry. We couldn't just throw him out. We'll just have to, I don't know, slip away every so often to test out the mistletoe."

"Mistletoe? Oh, I see. Well, it certainly looks like we'll be able to find some whenever we need to." Harry's voice was filled with gentle humor, and Ginny blushed.

"I know, it's a little bit much-"

"Are you kidding? If anything, you haven't got nearly enough for us. I mean, there isn't any in the landing, is there? And if you remember, that's certainly a place that needs it."

Ginny blushed, but her eyes sparkled. "Oh, is that how we decide where it goes? Wherever we've shagged?"

Harry waggled his eyebrows. "I think that's a great idea. Only, we've only been married for six months, there might be some places where we _want_ to shag that deserve to be marked, too. Like, next to the tree. . ." His voice trailed off seductively, giving Ginny goose bumps, and making her wish there were some way of getting Ron out of the house, even for just fifteen minutes.

"We might need more mistletoe," she managed to say, around a mouth that had gone very dry in response to her imagination.

Harry pulled her close and kissed her. Forgetting about decorating, or her brother, she melted into his arms and kissed him back with all her soul. This-this was the part of marriage that she had found most surprising. She had looked forward to being Harry's wife, to being able to (finally) live with him. She had imagined raising children, and working together. She had even, in the blushing darkness of her quiet bedroom, wondered what making love would be like. And those things (well, not the raising of the children, that would come later) had all proven to be just as wonderful as she'd hoped. But never in her wildest dreams had she realized how much she would want to give to Harry.

Ginny had always been independent. Her fierce temper and absolute faith in her own abilities had stood her in good stead as the youngest of seven, and the poorest of her year, and any number of other -ests. She had envisioned marriage as being a constant give-and-take (which it was) and a lifetime of sharing things (which it also was). But she had never realized how much her own heart would change. Rather than a desire to win, to be the best, to prove her capabilities, she found instead a desire to please Harry, to make him happy, to give him anything he wanted. It was a strange and wonderful thing, to see such a huge change in herself. And it would have rankled more than anything else in her life ever had, except that Harry seemed to feel the same way. He had once tried to talk to her about it, but his voice had faltered, and he had hesitated. He couldn't find the words, but Ginny knew. Ginny knew beyond any shadow of a doubt what he meant, and rejoiced in knowing that they both felt the same way.

And this kiss was just another way they showed it to each other. Certainly they could be demanding towards each other-Harry had a tendency to brood, and Ginny had a tendency to allow her temper full sway. But they never forgot their love, and the feelings that flowed when they sank into a kiss, or into an embrace, or into a night of passionate love always brought them back to each other, with full arms, and bodies, and hearts.

Which was what made the yelling from the fireplace such a shock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Enough Mistletoe, Chapter 2

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count:** 2826

**Summary:** Unexpected visitors and the resulting lack of privacy teach Harry and Ginny about the reason for the seasons, and whether you really can have too much mistletoe.

**Author's Notes: **This was written for the LiveJournal hg_seasonsfest winterfest fic exchange. We all put in our requests, and were given an assignment. My prompt was: Canon pairings; I like stories just out of Hogwarts through when Lily is a baby; Neville would be good, as would any of the Weasleys. Snow, Fireplaces, Hot chocolate – really, winter is my favorite season you can't go wrong with most winter elements (but if you choose to include a sport – please don't go with snowboarding!)

**Enough Mistletoe, Chapter 2**

"Oi! Ginny! Harry! Can I come through?"

To his credit, Harry didn't curse the speaker. But only because his arms were too full of Ginny to be able to get his wand from his back pocket.

Ginny had no such impediments and pulled Harry's wand and fired the first spell she could think of. Luckily, the head in the fireplace disappeared (sporting a rather terrified grimace) before the _Bombarda_ could get there. And, in her ire, Ginny's aim wasn't exactly true.

After the bits and pieces finished settling, Harry remarked, "Well, I guess we don't need to worry about decorating the mantel anymore."

Ginny laughed, but then tears came to her eyes. "Oh, Harry, I wanted everything to be perfect for our first Christmas, and this magazine had a great picture of an absolutely beautiful arrangement on the mantel, and I was trying to copy it, but then you came home, and Ron showed up, and poor Neville-he'll probably never speak-"

"Hush, Gin," Harry pulled her back into his arms. "It's not the mantel-"

"Um, Harry? Can I come through?" came Neville's very timid request.

Harry let loose a long sigh, then nodded. Ginny unsealed the Floo and a very nervous Neville stepped out of the fireplace.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. And Ginny, I didn't mean to interrupt. I mean, obviously I didn't know you were in the middle of something. If I'd known, I certainly wouldn't have-"

"Neville!" Ginny interrupted him. "It's okay, really. And I'm sorry about trying to blow your head off. It's just been one of those days."

Neville grinned slightly. "I don't know-it looked like one of the better days, from what I could see."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Let's just say it's had its ups and downs-"

Ginny snickered at the blush rising on Neville's face, and then laughed outright when Harry realized what he'd said.

Harry shook his head and ignored the double entendre. "What I mean, Neville, is that Ron just came through with some wild story about being attacked by ice weasels, and how Hermione's all mad at him about it, and . . ." Harry's voice trailed off as he noticed Neville's crestfallen look.

"No, Neville, don't worry about it," Harry hurried to reassure his quiet friend. "We don't mind you coming over, right, Ginny?"

Ginny hurriedly agreed with Harry, and Neville's worried look went away, to be replaced by a different worried look. "Um, Harry? Would you mind if I talked to Ginny?"

Harry looked taken aback, but turned to his wife. She seemed surprised too, but nodded.

"Sure, Neville. Um, I'll just be in the kitchen with Ron, okay?"

"Thanks, Harry. It's just that, I think I need a girl's opinion."

"No problem, Neville. After you and Ginny are done, why don't you come back for some hot chocolate, okay?"

Neville smiled a bit more at the invitation. "Thanks, Harry, I think I'll do that."

Harry turned to walk away, but was stopped by an ominous throat-clearing from his wife. He quickly turned back to see a rather fierce glare on her face. He blanched, but then noticed that there was humor in her eyes, behind the glare. He looked a question at her, and she just pointed upward.

Harry looked, looked again, and laughed. "Sorry, Gin, I hadn't expected a piece there." He took two steps toward her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her ferociously, unheeding of Neville's blush. Breaking the kiss, leaving Ginny looking rather dazed, he turned and walked back to the kitchen.

"Um, Ginny? Are you okay?" Neville's quiet voice brought Ginny out of the haze of heat that had surrounded her.

"Oh, yeah. Um, yeah." She shook her head a bit. "Now, uh, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Oh," Neville's face fell again. "It's just that Hannah's really angry at me right now, and I don't know what I can do to fix it."

Ginny patted Neville on the arm, and then pulled him toward the sofa. "Well, sit down and tell me what happened, and we'll see if there's something you can do."

Neville hesitated, eyeing the sofa. "Ginny, I'm not sure Harry would want us to sit there. Together, I mean."

Ginny looked back at him blankly. "Whyever not?"

Neville just looked up at the ceiling, and nervously pointed.

Ginny looked up too. "Oh, the mistletoe." She blushed a bit, but her voice was steady. "Don't worry about it-I kind of got a little carried away decorating, and Harry's always loved catching me under the mistletoe. But this mistletoe is special-" Ginny thought furiously. "-it only takes effect for couples. So you and I sitting under it won't be a problem. But if Hannah came over, and you were both here, well, let's just say you wouldn't want to ignore the opportunity."

Neville seemed to accept Ginny's explanation, and he took a seat.

oooooooooo

Ron and Harry were enjoying their refilled mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen, aided by Harry's secret stash of Christmas biscuits, when they were interrupted by loud shouting from the front room. It sounded as if someone were yelling quite vigorously, but the voice, despite being female, wasn't Ginny's.

Ron looked a little nervously at Harry, who just stared back. "I'm not going in there, mate. If you want to, go ahead. But that's not Ginny's voice, and she's perfectly able to take care of whatever it is."

Unfortunately, the voice got loud enough for them to hear it. "-and I find you spilling your guts to your ex-girlfriend! What kind of a relationship is that supposed to be, Mr. Longbottom?"

The next thing they heard was Ginny coming rapidly down the hallway. She threw open the kitchen door and made a beeline for the table. Grabbing Harry's mug, she downed what was left of his chocolate, then sank into his lap.

"Thank Merlin," she said, and leaned back into Harry's arms, which automatically wrapped around her. Taking advantage of the mistletoe floating over the table, Harry tilted her head back and kissed her. Ginny melted in his embrace, in that particular boneless way that made Harry feel like he was the king of the world.

Ron was rapidly turning red, either in anger over the display of affection, or in sympathy for the two people's holding their breath for such a long time, but before he could muster the courage to say anything (Ginny had explained her feelings towards brotherly buttings-in rather forcefully when she and Harry had gotten back together) they broke their kiss and sighed in unison.

Ron waited for Ginny to tell them about her conversation and the ensuing fight, but the couple on the other side of the table from him seemed to be too caught up in exchanging sappy looks to notice his eagerness. Eventually his limited patience ran out.

"Ginny! What did Neville want to talk about?"

Harry jumped in surprise and they both turned to look at Ron. "Sorry, Ron. I forgot you were there," Ginny answered coolly.

"Obviously," Ron commented sarcastically. "Too busy playing kissy-face with Harry to pay any attention to me, yeah?"

Ginny grinned. "Ron, please tell me you don't call it _kissy-face_ when Hermione's around. I can just imagine her reaction to that." She made her voice deeper in a surprisingly good imitation of Ron's. "Hey, Hermione, come give me some _kissy-face_!"

Harry snickered, and Ginny lost it. After laughing at Ron's discomfiture, Harry prodded him. "Come on, Ron. What did she say the first time you called it that?"

Ron's blush reached epic proportions, but he just shook his head. "I'm not saying anything, you gits. I don't need Hermione more upset with me than she is now. And what we do in private is none of your business!"

"What you do in private?" Harry laughed. "You two spending lots of time in private now, are you?"

Ron nodded his head, and Harry and Ginny congratulated him.

"But don't go making a big fuss about it, okay?" Ron said hastily. "It's just-I want this to work out, and we certainly don't need you two shoving your noses in where they don't belong!"

Harry grimaced. "Um, Ron? In case you didn't notice, it was your nose that was shoving in today."

Ron frowned fiercely at the Potters, and Harry raised his hands in supplication. "Okay, fine. We'll not mention anything. But you owe us one, yeah?"

Ginny mimed pulling out a parchment and quill and making a tally mark. "I think that's 37 now that you owe us. Oh, wait, I forgot to add the one where we let you come over 'cause Hermione and her parents were being treated for ice weasel attacks. There, 38."

Ron turned red once more, but ignored Ginny's byplay.

"So, Gin, what _is_ wrong with Neville?" Harry asked. Ron looked rather happy that Harry was willing to step up in the matter.

"Oh, it wasn't anything, really. Just one of those misunderstandings. Now that I think about it, Ron, it was kind of like yours. You see, Neville's fancied Hannah Abbott for just ages now. And she's liked him since about her fourth year, I think. Yeah, she kept throwing all these dark looks at us while we were dancing at the Yule Ball. Anyway, Neville finally got up the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend last year, and things have been progressing pretty well, from what I can gather. Where did you get those biscuits?"

Harry blinked at the non-sequitur, then looked at the tin still sitting in front of Ron. "Oh, um, they were kind of supposed to be a . . . a surprise for you. Um, Happy Christmas?"

If Harry hadn't been so hesitant, he might have pulled it off. But Ginny was quite practiced at noticing Harry's sad attempts at dissembling, and poked him in the ribs. "You liar-you've been hiding them from me, haven't you?" Ignoring Harry's spluttered denials, she gestured imperiously at Ron. "Pass them over. Now!"

Ron shoved the tin over, and Ginny took a couple of the chocolate-chip ones. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. So anyway, Neville is apparently rather serious about Hannah, so he wanted to give her a present, you know? To show her how much he cares." She paused to take another bite of biscuit. "Evidently, he found this really rare plant-he called it a _Grasping Ginkgo_-and took it over to her at the Leaky Cauldron. She was all happy and stuff, but apparently it's not called _Grasping_ for nothing. While she was standing there admiring it, it pinched her on the bum. Hannah thought it was Neville, and she slapped him and told him to get out. He came here to see if I could give him some advice on how to fix things-not like I'm best friends with Hannah or anything. Well, Hannah went over to his place to kind of apologize-apparently, when the Ginkgo started getting even more, um, _affectionate_, she realized what had happened. Anyway, Neville's gran told her he had come here, so she followed, and started yelling at him for running to me-"

"Yeah, we kind of heard that part," Harry interjected. "How did you get them to stop arguing?"

"Huh? Oh, I didn't, really. Hannah started yelling as soon as she saw the two of us. That wasn't too fun. But when she started looking around for things to throw, I kind of pushed Neville at her and ran. I don't know why they got so quiet all of a sudden, and I don't really want to go back there right now." She looked at Ron thoughtfully. "Ron, you owe us, right? Go see what's happening with Neville and Hannah, okay?"

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Ginny interrupted. "Well, I guess you could stay here, but I was going to have Harry look at this bruise. . ." She started lifting the front of her shirt.

"No! That's fine, I'll go! No need to get shirty about it!"

Everybody paused, then broke out into laughter as Ron turned red and left, muttering to himself.

"Gin, did you really get a bruise there?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Oh, no. I just figured it was a good way to get Ron out of the kitchen."

"Good thinking, Mrs. Potter. I don't think we've been able to have nearly enough time together recently. Well, it was wonderful kipping with you for awhile, but to be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more. . . active." His words were accompanied by waggling eyebrows, a leering grin, and wandering hands.

"Harry, stop that," Ginny insisted, grabbing his hands to keep them still. Strangely, she didn't remove them from their perches, she just kept them from moving more.

Harry grinned at her, but noticed that her face had gotten serious. "What's wrong, Gin?"

"It's just that, well, this is our first Christmas together, and I wanted it to be perfect for you. I know the Dursleys-" the venom that usually infected her voice any time his relatives were mentioned was even more evident today, "-never let you participate. And yes," she raised her voice slightly to counteract Harry's protests that he loved all the Christmases with the Weasleys, "I know you like Christmas with my family. But this year we can be alone together, you know? We have a great opportunity to start our own Christmas traditions, and I just, I wanted it to be perfect."

Harry was alarmed to see Ginny's eyes start to fill with tears.

She sniffed slightly, then continued her rant. "But now we've got Ron hiding from the Grangers, and Hannah and Neville-"

"Snogging in a corner, the gits," Ron interrupted as he returned from the sitting room. "And I think I used up at least 10 of my IOUs for that-I certainly did _NOT_ need to see that." Ron shuddered dramatically.

Ginny gave a watery chuckle. "So, she's not mad at him anymore?"

"I should hope not! If that's how she punishes him, I'd hate to see what she does when she's happy with him!"

Ron took his seat at the table and refreshed his hot chocolate, snagging another biscuit as he did so.

Ginny grimaced at Ron's presence, but Harry squeezed her gently. "It's okay, love," he whispered. Then, in a normal voice, he said, "Well, Ron, I need to go up and wrap my presents, okay?"

Ron put down his mug quickly, slopping a little chocolate on the table, and made to stand up. "Okay, let's go."

"Um, no, Ron. Ginny and I are going up-you're staying here. Oh, well," Harry grinned slyly, "I suppose you could come up. I was just going to show Ginny that lingerie I picked out for her. It's dark green, and the fishnets-"

"Stop! Okay! Fine, I'll stay down here. But if I have nightmares tonight, it's your fault. Eurgh!" Ron sat back down in disgust, and picked up his mug again.

Harry snickered. "Okay, Ron. If you're sure. . ."

Ron just nodded, and the Potters headed out of the room.

"Do you think we should check on Neville and Hannah?" Harry asked as they walked.

"No, they'll be okay. Neville really does love her, and I think he'll be able to convince her of that pretty quickly, if they're snogging."

"Really?" Harry asked. "He's that good of a kisser?"

"Why? Are you jealous, Potter?" Ginny shot back.

"Not especially, no. Well, I'm envious of him having taken you to the Yule Ball-I wish I'd had the chance to do that." Harry quieted, then said, "Did you really kiss him?" He hastened to add, "I'm really not jealous, just curious, you know? I mean, my first kiss was Cho, but I really wish it had been you, and-"

"You're babbling, dearest," Ginny interrupted with a soft smile. "Neville kissed me, after the Yule Ball, but he just kissed me on the cheek. I'm glad for that-I think I was rather too young to be getting caught up in snogging and everything, even if I had been attracted that way to Neville. And Michael-well, he was patient with me, and I didn't let him kiss me for the longest time. But he was my first kiss." She looked pensive for a moment as they turned and started up the stairs. "I had thought, for the longest time, that my first kiss would be with you. I'm. . . not sad, really, maybe _wistful_ is the right word. I'm wistful that it wasn't, but I'm not sure it was a bad thing to have kissed Michael and Dean before you."

"Really? Why?"

Ginny turned to Harry and grinned. "Because now I really _can_ say that you are the best kisser ever!" And she drew him into a deep, passionate snog that made him forget about all the other people in the house with them.

Which was what made the yelling from the staircase above them such a shock.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Enough Mistletoe, Chapter 3

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count:**

**Summary:** Unexpected visitors and the resulting lack of privacy teach Harry and Ginny about the reason for the seasons, and whether you really can have too much mistletoe.

**Author's Notes: **This was written for the LiveJournal hg_seasonsfest winterfest fic exchange. We all put in our requests, and were given an assignment. My prompt was: Canon pairings; I like stories just out of Hogwarts through when Lily is a baby; Neville would be good, as would any of the Weasleys. Snow, Fireplaces, Hot chocolate – really, winter is my favorite season you can't go wrong with most winter elements (but if you choose to include a sport – please don't go with snowboarding!)

**Enough Mistletoe, Chapter 3**

"George Weasley! When I get my hands on you you'll wish you'd never been born, you. . ." The female voice continued on from there, describing George's probable parentage (since any son of Molly and Arthur would never stoop so low), hygiene habits, methods of generating heat in his apartment, and accusing him of several rather unsavory habits, not the least of which was cheating at pinochle.

Harry and Ginny stood silently on the stairs, in awe of the continued string of maledictions being shouted at full volume. As they stood there listening, they were quietly joined by Neville, who had his arm around Hannah's waist and what looked to be a permanent smile on his face, and Ron, who wasn't joined to anyone, but who came holding a mug of cocoa and three more biscuits.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, as the tirade increased in vituperation and volume, "wonder what George did to get Angelina so upset. . ."

"Do you think we should do anything?" Harry asked.

Ginny shook her head vigorously, Ron echoing her sentiments. "No, mate. You do NOT want to get between those two when they're fighting. Mum tried, once, but Angelina can out-shout her any day of the week. I didn't ever think that was possible."

Neville looked agape at Ron, then whispered something to Hannah. "Um, we'll just be in the kitchen, okay?"

Harry nodded at Neville and waved a quick goodbye at Ron, who seemed rather more interested in going back to the kitchen where the rapidly-emptying tin of biscuits was.

"Well, do you think we can make it up to the bedroom?" Harry asked. The shouting seemed to have ended, or at least been continued at a less-strident level, and Harry was intent on spending some time with Ginny in private.

"Why, Mr. Potter! Whatever can you be trying to do?" grinned Ginny lasciviously. "I'm not the kind of girl who'll just roll over and die when some handsome man asks her to his room. . ."

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "Miss Weasley," he said, his voice deepening as he got into his role. "I would never try to lure you to my room under false pretenses. I can see you're a woman of integrity, and I respect that. But you see, I have a problem I was hoping you would help me with."

Ginny smiled at Harry's playing along. "And what problem might that be, Mr. Potter?" she asked, in an innocent voice, while slowly twisting a lock of hair around one finger.

"Well," Harry started, then stopped to clear his throat-Ginny's "innocent" act never failed to raise his temperature. "It seems that I've been somewhat profligate in my buying habits lately, and I've managed to purchase the most beautiful peignoir. It's a dark green, comes with fishnet stockings, and I think it'll look absolutely stunning." He paused for a moment to leer suggestively at her. "I was wondering. . . You seem to be about the right size, so I was thinking you might be willing to model it for me. Just to see, of course, how it will look."

Ginny acted shocked. "But sir! How do I know you'll honor your word? I know your type-you'll get me in your room, wearing some scandalous outfit, then lock me in and ravish me, holding me, and kissing me, and touching me in places that shouldn't be touched by anyone except my husband. You might lock the door, and keep me there all night doing all sorts of unspeakable things to my body-"

Her voice was cut off as Harry growled deeply, grabbed his wife, and tossed her over his shoulder. Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced up towards the master bedroom. Ginny had become a little breathless herself, thinking about all the things that she'd been suggesting to Harry, and was more than ready to be locked in said room, and have said ravishment take place, multiple times.

Unfortunately, they found out what had happened to George and Angelina. They were sitting on the floor, leaning up against the door to the master bedroom, snogging to beat the band.

Harry harrumphed. Then repeated it a little louder. Ginny, still draped over his shoulder, wiggled around so she could see what was going on.

"George Fabian Weasley!" she yelled, as loud as she could, which was rather impressively loud considering her position over Harry's shoulder. "What in Merlin's name are you doing snogging in front of my bedroom!"

The amorous couple broke apart at that, and stared at the rather unexpected picture. Ginny's face had gotten rather red from all the blood rushing to it, so she looked like she had rather a unfortunate tomato attached to her shoulders. Harry, on the other hand, had the most woebegone expression on his face. George laughed first, and even Angelina snickered behind her hand.

But their laughter died out quickly and they climbed to their feet as Harry put Ginny back down. "Sorry, Harry," George said. "We didn't really mean to block the bedroom door. It's just-"

"-this thickheaded oaf got tired of my yelling at him, and decided to kiss me," Angelina finished. She turned slightly and punched George right in the stomach. "That's what you get for trying to ditch me, all right? If you ever start thinking the same way, just remember that I can hit a LOT harder than that, understand?"

George wheezed and gasped, but nodded his head.

"Okay, then." Angelina turned to Harry and Ginny. "We're sorry about this-well, at least I am." She shot a nasty glare at George. "George was being an idiot, again, and tried to get away-did you know your Floo is unrestricted right now?"

Ginny wryly shook her head. "Yeah, I must have forgotten to set it back to voice-only after Neville came through."

"It does explain why we seem to be gathering all sorts of miscreants tonight," Harry commented.

George chuckled at that. "Yeah, I saw Neville and Hannah celebrating something when I came through, but Ange was coming right after me, so I couldn't even take the mickey for being so friendly."

Harry shook his head. "So, um, if you two are all happy now, can you move out from in front of the door?"

George leered at his brother-in-law. "Why, Harry? What are you two planning on doing in there, hmmm? Might there be a little-"

They never got to find out what George was intimating.

"Hello the house! Anyone around?" The voice was undoubtedly Molly Weasley's. "Oh! I'm sorry, Neville, I didn't mean to startle you. And you must be. . .?"

Harry's shoulders drooped, and he turned to his wife. "I guess we'd better go welcome your mum. . ."

Ginny looked just as forlorn. "Yeah, probably. But you listen here, Mr. Potter!" She poked him in the chest. "We are going to finish this later tonight, okay? There's some mistletoe that still needs using. . ." Her face fell as she said that, and she finished up in almost a whisper, "it's about all I've been able to really accomplish."

Harry stopped and looked down his wife. "Ginny, what's the problem? That's like the eighth time you've said something like that, and every time you just get all sad."

"Harry!" came Molly's voice from downstairs. "Where are you and-"

Her voice cut off as the Floo activated yet again, apparently disgorging someone into the sitting room. Hermione, it must have been, since Molly immediately greeted her.

Harry looked torn. The opportunity to see Hermione's and Ron's reunion was one that promised quite a lot of fireworks, along with a rather large amount of teasing material for the future. But one look at his wife's face reminded him that, while Hermione and Ron might be entertaining, the more important crisis was her. "Um, George? Do you think, maybe, you and Angelina could leave us alone for awhile? Maybe go downstairs and take notes on what happens between Ron and Hermione?"

George, too, seemed torn, but Angelina earned Harry's life-long thanks for grabbing his hand (in what seemed to be a rather painful grasp, if George's contorted face was anything to go by), and dragging him downstairs.

Harry took Ginny's hands in his and backed towards their door. "Come on, Gin. Let's go talk about whatever's been happening today, okay?"

She sniffed a bit, and nodded. Then laughed as Harry ran into their door, which was apparently still spelled shut. "Hold on, Harry, let me get that for you, okay?"

Harry grimaced good-naturedly, and stood aside as she cast the unlocking spell. He tested the doorknob, and, finding it easily-turnable, pulled her into their room.

Which looked as though a kitschy Christmas-card store had torn itself to pieces, flown through space, and disgorged itself all over the furnishings, floor, drapes, and light fixtures.

"Gin?" Harry asked, bemused. "What happened?"

And that's when Ginny lost it. "You want to know what happened? Fine! I'll tell you!" She ripped her hands out of his grip and pushed past him. "It's our first Christmas together," she spat out. "I wanted to make it special for you. I know how Christmases were when you were growing up-those pigs you lived with didn't let you participate in anything!" Her voice had started out somewhat shakily, but she'd hit her stride, and was now carrying on at full volume. Harry surreptitiously cast Silencing and Imperturbable charms on the floor and walls, sure that what was coming was not something to share with anyone else.

"So, I figured that I could make our place into the best, Christmasy-est house ever. I put those stupid pine boughs all along the stairway-do you know it's almost impossible to get pine sap out of my hair? Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover doesn't even touch it! And then there's that stupid song, _Here We Go A-Wassailing_. So I figured it must be a Muggle thing, yeah? So I asked Mr. Simmons at the grocery about it, and do you know what he told me? He said it's some type of _hot, moldy cider_! I swear, I would have hexed him if old Mrs. Pruneface from next door hadn't been watching. So, I'm sorry, but I'm not giving you _wassail_, okay?"

Harry nodded gently, but knew he wasn't really supposed to answer anything else.

"And you know about the mantel-it was going to look so pretty, with all the little presents and nutcrackers-what are nutcrackers for, anyway?" Harry, once again, didn't answer. "And we were going to make Christmas goodies and go caroling, and make snow angels, and . . . and I think I put up enough mistletoe for the whole world to come and snog under, and I BURNT MY FINGER!"

And Ginny burst into tears.

Harry was by her side in a flash, taking her into his arms and holding her just as close as he possibly could with clothes still on. And Ginny, his strong, proud, fiery Ginny, was crying on his shirt and shaking in his arms.

After another large amount of time had passed, Ginny's sobs had died away into hiccoughs, and Harry felt it was safe to talk to her. First, however, he maneuvered them over to sit on the bed-well, on top of something crinkly and slightly pokey on the bed. A muttered curse, and a giggle from Ginny, later, he kissed her on the head and said, "You're a silly goose, you know that?"

Ginny reacted instantly, pushing away from him (not that it worked-he held her as tightly as possible) and reaching for her (or his) wand (she wasn't particular). But he just smiled at her, and kissed her forehead again.

"You, Ginny Potter, are a silly goose. You are a silly goose for thinking I want or need all those things to have a good Christmas. Yes, I had to watch the Dursleys enjoy their holiday, and I wanted those things. But I've learned, Gin. I've learned that even with all those trappings of Christmas, they weren't having a happy Christmas. Dudley always complained about not having enough presents, and Vernon and Petunia always rushed around trying to make him happy. And all three of them always tried their hardest to make the rest of Little Whinging think they were the best at being Christmasy.

"But the truth of it is, dearest, is that the real Christmas spirit was what I felt in the Burrow. Your family didn't try to do all those things that the Dursleys did-no flaunting their decorating for the neighbors, no huge mound of presents to keep a spoiled brat from crying, no conspicuous display of festivities. Just a warm home, a warm family, and a happiness that can't be bought. You, Ginny, are Christmas to me."

Harry looked down at his wife's face in love and tenderness, and a little bit of sheepishness for being so sappy. But Ginny's face, the look there, the love there, made it all worthwhile.

She sniffled a bit more, and gave him a watery smile. "So you don't care that the mantel isn't perfectly beautiful?"

He shook his head. Then snickered. "What mantel?"

She slapped him lightly on the chest. "You prat." She was silent for a moment. "And the pine boughs in the stairwell?"

"Honestly, I didn't notice-I was a little bit distracted."

Ginny smiled at him for that, but then frowned. "Well, what about my poor ice-weasel-infested brother?"

"Well, Hermione's there now, and I'm sure they're bickering over things as usual, but even they're part of the Christmas spirit, aren't they?"

"But what about Hannah, and Neville?"

"The more the merrier," Harry responded.

"My mum?"

Harry frowned. "Ginny, she's the first person to ever give me a Christmas present-it really wouldn't be Christmas without her, would it?"

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "No, it wouldn't."

Harry held her on his lap for a few moments longer, then shifted. "Speaking of her, we should probably go see how things are going down there-I wouldn't want her to start thinking that we've barricaded ourselves up here trying to hide from her."

"Nah, she'd probably think we were up here shagging, and be too excited about the prospect of another grandchild to spoil." She smiled naughtily. "But didn't you say something about green lingerie? When do I get to see this mythical-what did you call it? A peignoir?"

Harry flushed. "Yeah, well, I don't think it'd be a good thing to bring out right now, since we should really go greet our guests." His eyes flitted around the room, focusing on everything except Ginny's face.

"Why, Mr. Potter, is that a blush? Why would you be embarrassed about buying your wife lingerie?"

"It's not that, Gin. It's just that, well, I'm having a hard enough time wanting to go chat with the family-you and green lingerie would be too much to take, I think."

Ginny grinned up at him. "Having self-control issues, are you?"

"Merlin, Gin, don't you know what you do to me already?"

Ginny wiggled a bit on Harry's lap, emphasizing that, yes, she really _did_ know how she affected her husband. But then she jumped down and held out a hand. "Well, I guess we'd better go down, then, and face the mob."

The stairs, bedecked with the pine boughs, were very quiet. As was the sitting room. Casting bemused glances at each other, they wandered down the hall to the kitchen door.

Opening the door, they were just about floored by the noise and chaos bursting out.

Molly was standing at the stove, tending what looked like all the pots the Potters had, from which dozens of (thankfully) complementary aromas were arising.

Ron and Hermione were seated in a corner, furiously arguing over something that neither one, probably, cared that much about. Ginny was pleased to see that they were holding hands while doing so.

Neville and Hannah were at the table, sipping from mugs that probably held hot cocoa and snacking on Christmas biscuits ("Hey, those are the same ones I was hiding!" "So, you admit you were hiding them!")

Percy and Audrey were standing over by the fireplace, quietly talking about (Harry was certain) something dreadfully boring and important.

Bill and Fleur, with their too-beautiful-to-be-human daughter Victoire were at one side of the table, folding napkins into what looked like miniature snowmen.

George and Angelina were playing a spirited game which looked to be something like "Lick your opponent to death". Harry looked away quickly-not disgusted so much as intrigued by the possibility of teaching Ginny how to play.

Charlie ("Harry! Charlie's here!" screamed Ginny, although no-one except Harry heard her) was describing something that, from the motions of his hands, was either a jousting match done with dragons and tree trunks, or a particularly interesting method of digging for gold.

And Arthur was sitting in the chair at the end of the table, watching his children, both natural and by choice, with a fond smile on his face.

Harry pulled Ginny back into him, and wrapped his arms around her. "Ginny," he whispered softly into her ear. "I can't think of a better way to celebrate Christmas." He looked up at the ceiling, searching for something. Finding it in abundance, he leaned back down. "And, for the record, I don't think there can _ever_ be too much mistletoe in this house."


End file.
